Children No More
by Lost2Found
Summary: The Pevensies have returned from Narnia. Though their parents do not see it, they each carry something with them.
1. Chapter 1

Children No Longer

Helen looked out her kitchen window and stopped to watch her children.

"Careful!" She heard Susan shout to her brothers. Peter had somehow found two wooden swords the day before. She barely got them to come in for dinner. The way that they sparred sometimes frightened her. They were amazing swordsmen, but to her knowledge they'd never held a sword before. Susan anxiously watched them from the sideline, calling out warnings. Little Lucy sat with her back against an old pine tree, sketching something. She noticed her youngest daughter doing that a lot recently. Whenever she held a pencil or paintbrush, or even a box of crayons in her hands she looked peaceful. Helen smiled, wondering what the little girl drew. Lucy had never allowed her to see any of her sketches. She quietly went back to dishes, leaving her thoughts at the window.

Lucy looked up to see her eldest brother trotting over to her. "Whatcha drawing?"

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree. Wordlessly she handed him the open sketchbook.

Peter was shocked. She'd always refused to show him her drawings. He liked to think of them as the secrets of his sister's heart. He started at the beginning. The first picture was a close-up of Aslan's face. Peter felt warmth fill his heart. The picture showed his soft face and ears, and a bit of his mane. It was beautiful. Tears filled his eyes as he remembered running his fingers through that mane. By that time Edmund and Susan had joined him in staring at their little sister's drawings. The second picture was of a dagger, undeniably Lucy's, sitting in the bull's eye. The next was a picture of Peter, dressed in his royal battle armor, leading the Narnian Army into battle, Edmund on his right, and the centaur Oreius on his left. The picture following was of the four thrones in the Great Hall of Havenhedge. Peter could tell that she drew them how they'd looked at the coronation, the crowds of people on either side of the walkway, the side of Susan's coronation gown just visible at the corner of the paper. The following picture was a portrait of Lucy's first friend in Narnia, Mr. Tumnus. The picture after that was of a dryad. And so on and so on, picture after picture of Narnia. There was one breathtaking picture of the Eastern Sea, as seen from Lucy's balcony. Peter felt as though his heart had stopped when he saw the next picture. It was him, as he had always looked just after a successful sparring match. In the picture he was wearing a brown leather jerkin with three golden prongs keeping the material closed. He was holding Rhindon parallel in front of his face, in a salute, the golden pommel in the shape of a lion's head just visible above the edge of the paper. His High King's crown glistened on top of his head. At the top of the page she had written the word Magnificent: his title. Reluctantly he flipped the page. Susan gasped. The detail Lucy had put into her picture, especially her eyes, was incredible. She could even see the decorative golden sprigs of berries, the eleven false buttons down the center and the close set embroidered flowers on the trim of her coronation dress. Her smile could have filled the room and her eyes could have lit it up. Her tiara looked just like it had in Narnia: a wreath of mountain ash leaves. At the top of the page Lucy had written Gentle: her title. She did the same for Edmund as for the others. In his portrait he had a sly smile and was leaning forward slightly, as though he was about to win a hard-fought debate with a foreign dignitary. He was wearing his favorite tunic, made of blue velvet, although the picture was drawn only in black-and-white. The cord of the edging was drawn perfectly, as were the seven silver buttons. The sleeves were gathered into a long cuff that started at his mid-forearm. The picture showed his undershirt which was gathered into the collar of his tunic. Most of the belt of his sheath could be seen, but the picture faded away at the waist. His crown rested soundly on his head. At the top of the page she had written his title: Just. The final picture was of Lucy herself. She was clothed in a beautiful gown that had a round neckline. There were sprigs of berries and flowers embroidered into her dress, much like Susan's. This picture, too, cut off at the waist, showing only her dagger and healing cordial, nothing of the dress skirts. Her tiara was a wreath of yarrow. At the top she'd written the word Valiant: her title.

"Oh, Lucy," Susan gasped. "They're beautiful."

"Thank you," The little girl spoke politely. "Perhaps you two should get back to sparring," She suggested to her brothers with a smile.

"I suppose we might just do that," Peter said with a gentle smile.

"Spar time's over, Pete," Edmund said grimly, jumping to his feet.

"What do you mean, Ed?" Peter asked.

The younger boy pointed towards the house. Peter stood to his feet and shaded his eyes. In less than two seconds he was running towards his mother with the wooden practice sword drawn. His brother instantly fell in a half-step behind him, as always. Lucy was at his other side and Susan brought up the rear: their usual battle stance.

"Get away from her!" Helen whipped around at the sound of her son's outraged and fearful voice. The plate she'd been washing slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor when she saw who her son's anger was directed at. While her girls stood cautiously at the kitchen door, her boys both stood between her and a strange man.

"Malcolm!" She cried, pushing past her sons and running into the arms of the man she loved.

He chuckled and spun her around, as though she were still a young woman. "You look great, Helen."

Edmund watched Peter carefully out of the corner of his eye, still watching the man suspiciously with the other eye. His brother's mouth was open in shock, and tears welled in his eyes.

"Dad?" He whispered. The wooden sword lowered and finally hit the ground as Peter ran to his father, with Susan just a few steps behind. Edmund looked on as the man wrapped his arms around the two children. The elder children stepped backwards after a few moments, allowing their father to see Edmund.

"Ed," The man said and opened his arms wide. Edmund walked quickly forward and felt the warmth of his father's body pressed against him.

Malcolm looked up while he hugged his youngest son. He saw how Peter silently edged his way towards the doorway into the rest of the house. It took him a moment to figure out why. He could just barely see the tiny arms snaking around Peter's, and the little head that peeked out from behind his shoulder.

"Hello there," He called to the little girl, crouching down.

There was silence. He saw the little hand creep down her brother's arm until she was holding his hand. The older boy gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. He noticed how all of his children seemed to straighten when she glanced back at her older brother and he gave a small nod.

What the little girl did next was strange. She curtsied; not just the little dip that was common nowadays with young girls, but a low curtsey, like one given to a king. "Hello, Father."

"Lucy!" He wrapped her tightly in his arms and held her for several minutes. When he finally let her go he saw confusion and a bit of anger in her eyes. Peter had the same look in his eyes, while Susan and Edmund just looked concerned. Lucy ran back towards her brother and wrapped her arms around his waist. He kissed the top of her head and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Welcome home, Dad," he said quietly.

After a delicious dinner, Malcolm expected for his children to all sit around him and listen to the radio, and for little Lucy to crawl up into his lap and fall asleep, just like they all used to. Instead the children tried to make a quick exit to the stairs.

"Hey," He called to them, "Don't you all want to listen to the radio?"

"Sure, Dad," Susan said cautiously, making her way back down the stairs.

Malcolm smiled as his children all sat on the floor around his chair. Peter leaned forward and turned the radio on before settling on the floor between his youngest brother and sister. The boys were looking at each other in a curious way. Suddenly Edmund smiled triumphantly and walked over to the chess-board, picked up the game, and brought it over to his brother, who rolled his eyes. His girls smiled and joined them on the floor for a better view. Two hours later the boys were still playing. Lucy yawned.

"You tired, peanut? Come here," He said with a smile, patting his lap.

"I think I'll just turn in, Daddy. Thanks." The little girl hesitated for a moment. "I'm glad you're back safe." She came over to give him a quick peck on the cheek before heading for the stairs.

"I'll come tuck you in in a second, Lu," Peter said quietly.

"Okay."

"Since when are you two so good at chess?" Malcolm asked his son. "When I left you wouldn't even try to play."

"When you left," Peter said pointedly, "Ed was barely nine." Malcolm flinched. He saw the boys look at each other quickly.

"Sorry, Dad," Edmund said quickly. "What Pete _meant_ to say was when you left, we were too young to really play. During the war it was a way to pass the time, so we did it often. That's why we're so good at it."

"I think I'll go tuck Lu in now," Peter said quietly, standing. "We can finish tomorrow, Ed."

"I'll do it, son," Malcolm stood as well.

"I don't mind, Dad, really."

"No, son, I think you've tucked your sister in enough times. I'll do it tonight."

"I promised her I'd tuck her in, Dad. She'll be disappointed."

"Disappointed that her father came to tuck her in?" Anger flashed in the man's eyes. "She'll be fine, Peter. I'm home now. I'm the head of this house, not you. It's time for you to just be a kid again."

"Dad," Edmund began.

"Stay out of this, Edmund," Peter growled.

"Son, you're Lucy's brother. I'm her father."

"So you want me to just step down and pretend that the past three years never happened, is that it? I can't just do that, Dad! I held this family together. I was the one that kissed the boo boos and scared away the nightmares. I was the one that loved and protected this family, when you weren't here to do it. I can't just stop!"

"That's enough, Peter!" Malcolm yelled. "You're right, it wasn't me that was here for this family, and that wasn't fair. But it wasn't my fault. I'm here now, and I always will be here. It's time to let me be the father again. You have no idea what it was like over there."

"Yes I do," Peter whispered.

"You've never left your family, the people that depend on you, and gone to a battle you weren't sure you could win. You don't know what it's like to see your friends die beside you and not be able to do anything about it. You don't know what it's like to fight every battle afraid that you'll be next. You've never prayed that your children will remember you when you're dead. You don't know what it's like to write a letter telling your wife that you love her but you don't think you're coming home." He stopped then, seeing the pale looks of horror on the faces of Edmund and Susan. He saw instantly that the fear in their eyes wasn't directed at his story, but their older brother.

Peter's eyes were filled with unimaginable pain, and he was trembling. He took a step towards the door but then turned back to face his father. "I know more than you think." The boy ran from the house into the street. Without a word, Edmund ran after his brother.

"Susan?" The young girl looked away from her father. After a moment she looked up at him. He saw a tear trickle down her cheek. "Aw, come here, baby," He said softly, reaching for his eldest daughter's hand. She jerked away and walked up the stairs, her spine stiff.

Lucy heard the soft sniffles coming from her eldest brother's room. Quietly she slipped into her slippers and robe and grabbed her sketchbook.

"Pete?" Lucy whispered.

Instantly the sniffles stopped. In the moonlight she could see her brother's red and puffy eyes widen in fear. "You alright, Lu?"

Wordlessly she glided across the room and crawled under the covers with him.

"Dry your tears, Magnificent High King," she commanded gently. The boy squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and in that moment, the little girl saw straight into her brother's heart. She silently took him in her arms and held him tightly as he wept for everything he'd lost. "I know it hurts, Brother. I know."

When Peter gained control over his emotions once more, he laid silently with his head against his sister's heart, listening to the steady rhythm of its beating.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you, dearest Brother?" The little girl asked quietly. "I see a king that has lost his way. He's lost his kingdom, which he fought to protect for years, and is now somewhere that he no longer recognizes, trying to pretend to be someone who no longer exists. I see a king who has years of wisdom and knowledge and love that he doesn't know how to show because he shouldn't have it. I see a king who has lost his way and is struggling to find it again. But I also see a brother. I see a brother who would do anything for me. He'd take a sword in the back for me, or he'd face down evil wizards for his brother, or he'd fight off demanding suitors for his sister. I see a boy who grew into a man capable of doing just about anything. I see a man capable of loving greatly, and leading greatly. I see that same capable man, king, and brother trapped back inside of a boy's body. They won't see it, Pete, but we will. Dad will _never_ replace you, because he can't. You've done too much for too long for him to even come close to replacing you. But you've got to let go. If there's ever hope for peace in this house, you have got to yield to him, no matter how much it hurts."

"I know," Peter whispered.

"I also know that you left more behind than the rest of us. I made you this." Quickly she tore a page out of her sketchbook. "I want you to keep it with you wherever you go."

Tears spilled back down his cheeks as he gently brushed her picture with his thumb. "How did you-"

"Dearest brother, you think you can hide your feelings from me? I know how much she meant to you."

"Lion, I miss her," He whispered.

"You're not alone in your pain, Peter. Always remember that." She gave her eldest brother a quick hug before walking back to her own room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Y'all asked for more, and here it is. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. :)**

 **Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

"Lucy," Helen called up the stairs. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" The little girl asked, flashing her innocent eleven-year-old smile.

"I've set up a play-date for you and Margaret Jones from next door."

Lucy looked horrified. "A-a play-date?" She stuttered. "As in dolls?"

"Oh, good thinking dear! You'll have to bring Emily."

"I'll go get her." The little girl trudged up the stairs, head down in defeat.

"I can't believe mum's making me go on some stupid play-date!" Lucy seethed to her sister. "I'm not some little kid you know!"

"Actually," Susan said logically, "you are."

Suddenly Peter and Edmund entered the room. "We heard," Edmund said grimly.

"What'm I going to do?" Lucy wailed.

"Just try to act normal," Susan suggested.

"I don't know _how_ to act normal! It's so much easier for you all! You're older. Mummy doesn't make you all go on play-dates, or sing stupid rhymes with a jump-rope, or take a _nap_."

"I know Lu," Peter said quietly, "But we'll all get through it."

Susan handed her the doll. "Here's Emily."

"Thanks," She grumbled.

"Lucy!"

"Huh?" Lucy asked, starting.

"You know, I'm starting to think you don't want to be here," Margaret grumbled.

Lucy sighed, "Sorry Margaret. I just have a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

The entire time the little girl had been prattling on, she'd been thinking about Ithnia. "Nothing."

"Come on," Margaret whined. "It's not nice to keep secrets. I'll tell mother on you."

Lucy sighed again. The entire thing seemed rather elementary. She'd fought beside her brothers hundreds of times, facing down giants, hags, ogres, witches, wizards, foreign threats, and anything that threatened her beloved country. She was _not_ afraid of Mrs. Jones. So in the end she lied and told Margaret something she knew would shut the little girl up. "I was thinking about my Daddy." Her father went off to war over three years ago, English time, when she was only eight. She grew up for fifteen years without a true father. Even in England, but especially in Narnia, Peter was her only real father-figure. Thinking of her eldest brother nearly made tears come to her eyes. He'd lost his childhood, just as surely as their father lost his chance at parenthood.

"He's home, isn't he?" Margaret asked, her eyes suddenly fearful.

"Yeah."

"Well, that's good. Come on, let's play," Margaret said with a quick smile.

"I think I'm going to head on back to the house."

"Why?"

"I don't really feel like playing with baby dolls anymore. I'll see you later."

"Wait!" Margaret cried. "Come on, we can go inside and draw pictures."

Lucy looked cautiously around the house. "Come on," Margaret said, "we can color in the kitchen."

"Hello, dear," Mr. Jones said politely, "What are you girls doing in here?"

"We were wondering if we could color in here," Margaret said timidly.

"Of course, darling," the man said with a smile, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a box of crayons, which he handed to his daughter.

"Do you have any paints?" Lucy asked with a precious smile.

"Well, dear," the man hesitated. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. Little girls sometimes make big messes with paints, you know," he chuckled at his own joke.

"Yes sir," Lucy said respectfully, yielding to his authority, even though she knew that he really wasn't all that much older than she was herself.

Jack was surprised at the respectful, almost diplomatic, way the girl handled being denied her request. He could see the way her jaw twitched slightly, but nothing else gave away her annoyance.

"Come on, Margaret," she called to his daughter, "Let's color outside."

"But we need a table," Margaret replied.

"Oh, bother! I suppose you're right. Come on then, let's get to it."

When he came back a half-hour later Margaret proudly held up her work for him to admire. It looked like any other picture drawn by a ten-year-old. It was a picture of their family: Margaret, himself, and his wife, all smiling. There was a flower beside them that was as tall as the man in the picture. "Very good, angel." He kissed her on the forehead. Then he saw the look that Lucy was giving them, half scorn, half longing. "May I see yours, Lucy?" He asked with a smile. He had expected to see a badly drawn castle, or a cute little-girl version of a family portrait. When the girl held hers up his breath caught in his throat. He'd never seen anyone draw a picture that beautiful and detailed with anything, especially not with a crayon. It could easily have been drawn by a professional with oil-paints. It was museum-worthy. The entire page was taken up by a close-up of a lion's head. It should be terrifying, and in some ways it was. But there was something about the way the girl drew the animal's eyes that gave him an inner peace and warmth, much like going to church. Then he felt silly. It was just a child's drawing—unnaturally well-drawn, yes, but just a picture, all the same.

"It's amazing, Lucy," he managed to say.

"Thank you, sir."

"Where did you learn to draw like that? Do you practice often?"

"No sir, I used to, but I haven't gotten a chance since we came back… here."

"And where did you learn to draw like that?"

Lucy sighed. There was that same question again.

"In the country, sir. We had a lot of time on our hands, and not too much to do. There were no crayons, but we had paints, and I figured out how to use charcoal." What she didn't tell him was that those times she used charcoal to paint, she'd been drawing her brothers the eve of battle or the memories of the battle during the aftermath. It helped her to channel her emotions when she needed it, and sometimes it was used as an account of the battle or as inspiration for one mural or another.

"You'd never drawn any before the evacuation?"

"No, sir," she said quietly. "I suppose there was never a need for it, before."

The way the little girl said _before_ sent chills down his spine. The girl herself was a bit unusual. She seemed to be perfectly at ease talking with him. It was as though she'd spent her entire life talking with strange adults. She was talking more with him than with his daughter, and she seemed more comfortable speaking with him than a girl who was her age. For the first time since her arrival he looked the little girl straight in the eyes. Beautiful, blue eyes; as bright a blue as a sapphire. She held his gaze steadily. He found that he had to look away first. Her eyes spoke of years of experience; of hardship and loss, as well as friendship and joy. But they weren't merely the eyes of a wartime child. No, her eyes were far different from those of his own daughter. They looked like the eyes of a soldier on the front-lines, or at the very least, an Army nurse who had witnessed the atrocities of war first-hand.

"Let me see the picture," Margaret demanded.

"Here you are, Pegs," He said affectionately.

"It's not that good," she grumbled. Jealousy filled her gaze.

"Margaret!" Mr. Jones admonished his daughter.

Lucy reached across the table and gently caught the corner of the paper in her hand. His daughter suddenly jerked her hand backwards, ripping the paper down the center. He looked at Lucy. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes blazed, but she didn't say a single word, didn't even move.

"Margaret," He growled. "Go to your room _now_. I'll deal with you later." When his daughter had fled the room, Mr. Jones crouched down so that he was at eye-level with Lucy. He was about to apologize for the actions of his daughter when the little girl raised her hand for him to be silent. For some reason he felt compelled to obey.

"I think I'll go back to my house now." As she stood, she curtseyed slightly. "Have a nice day, Mr. Jones."


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone! Thanks so much for your kind reviews! I promise I haven't abandoned it, and I apologize for the delay in posting. I'm a nursing student, so life is kind of crazy right now! However, Christmas break is right around the corner, so I should get back on track then! Thanks! 3


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